


Holy Shit!

by harleygirl2648



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bad Flirting, Bad Puns, Baywatch References, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Billy Hargrove, Ice Cream, M/M, Swearing, Swimming Pools, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but she's incredible, guess what season 3 was about coming of age and nothing bad happened at all, slight Robin spoiler, the strangest thing was always heteronormativity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 20:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19709263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harleygirl2648/pseuds/harleygirl2648
Summary: There's no swearing on duty, even if those are the only words that apply to a sudden realization that is going to ruin/better your entire summer.





	Holy Shit!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AgentMaryMargaretSkitz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentMaryMargaretSkitz/gifts).



> Kate and I fell into the dumpster after s3 happened and broke us. Here you go, Kate. Her prompt was two words: "holy shit."
> 
> And then I wrote this way too fast.

“Holy _shit,_ Harrington.” **  
**

Steve whirls around so fast behind the counter that his hat nearly falls off. He wishes it had slipped down enough to cover his face so he didn’t have to meet Billy Hargrove’s eyes and smug grin. He shot a look towards Max, the one that said _you know I said any of your asses were grass if **he** found out about this job, right?_

She gave him a helpless _sorry, nothing I could do_ look back at him.

Steve rolled his eyes at them both. “You can’t swear in here, there’s kids.”

Billy gestured around the store. “Not a damn kid in sight except Max.”

“She counts,” Steve said flatly. Robin was looking up from her magazine in the back to watch the events unfold before her. “So, what’ll you h-”

“Isn’t there something you’re supposed to say, pretty boy?”

Steve sighed through gritted teeth, then pasted on a big fake grin. _“Ahoy.”_

Billy mockingly saluted him, and Steve felt like _dying_ as he said back, _“Ahoy,_ sailor.”

Max shoved Billy’s arm. “Shut up. Steve, I want mint chocolate chip with Reese’s cups.”

Billy scoffed at that, earning another shove from her. Steve chose to let the siblings hash it out, scooping out Max’s ice cream and adding the toppings, passing it over to her. She accepted it with a smile from him, nudging Billy as she walked out to scan the magazine kiosk just outside the store. Billy looked Steve over, and Steve couldn’t read what that expression meant. He just knew that he didn’t want to deal with Billy right now. “What do you want?”

“Winning lotto numbers and a new fan belt for my car.”

“You can have rainbow sherbert,” Steve offered, and Billy cracked a grin at him, licking over his bottom lip the way he always seemed to do.

He smoothed his hair back from his face, and Steve’s eyes drifted to the whistle still hanging around his neck, the crop top and the swim trunks he was still wearing. “Are you really wearing a swimsuit to the mall?”

“Didn’t have time to change after the shift, pretty boy. Can’t all wear sailor suits.”

Steve closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Robin craned her head to watch this unfold. “Can you just tell me what you want so you can get out?”

Billy shrugged, pointing behind the glass at the ice cream closest to him. “Pistachio, two scoops. With hazelnuts, and a cherry.”

Steve smiled even faker, scooping out the ice cream and turning to the toppings bar. Robin watched him make it, and Billy noticed her as he was watching Steve from behind. “What do you think, babe?” he asked her with a smirk. “Good order?”

Robin licked her finger and turned the page, looking up at him with a faint glint in her eye, as her voice dripped in sarcasm and double entendre, “I don’t have an affinity for nuts, Hargrove.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, she smiled back with nothing behind it right as Steve turned back around with his cup, and handed it to Billy across the counter. “Two fifty.”

Billy raised an eyebrow. “I know that hairspray’s rotting your brain, pretty boy, but it’s more than that for two ice creams.”

“One’s on the house.” Billy’s expression changed into that weird one again, and Steve didn’t think about it, looking past him to point towards Max. “Hers. Pay up.”

Billy took the cherry from his cup and put the whole thing, stem and all, into his mouth as he got his wallet out of his pocket. Steve drummed his fingers on the counter. “I don’t have all day.”  
  
“Paying customer, Captain Crunch, watch the attitude,” Billy snarked back, pulling out a five and ignoring Steve’s outstretched hand to slap it on the counter. “Haven’t seen you around the pool lately.”

Steve sighed, picking up the five and opened the register to pull make change. “I have a pool, I don’t need to go to the public one.”

“Oh, sorry, _King Steve,_ didn’t realize you’re too good to slum it with the plebeians down at the public pool.”

“I didn’t say that, asshole.”

 _“Ooh,_ watch it, there’s children here,” Billy mock gasped. Steve ignored it, but when he looked back up, Billy had the cherry stem tied in a knot on his tongue as he smirked, before he spat that onto the counter that Steve had _just_ wiped down. He held out his hand for the change, but Steve kept it in his fist.

“I’m taking Dustin and Suzie there on Friday,” Steve told him. Why was he telling him this? “I better not see your smug ass there.”

Somehow Billy looked less smug, instead almost - _surprised?_ “Friday’s are my double shift, sucks for you.”

“Guess I’ll have to see you,” Steve smiled through his teeth, and Billy smiled back. Steve almost put the change in his outstretched hand, close enough they could feel the heat off each other, before he dropped two dollars and fifty cents (all in loose change) onto the counter. _“Hasselhoff.”_

Billy’s face broke into a grin, one that didn't feel as - _mean,_ as his usual smiles, as he swept the change into his wallet. He took a few quarters and dropped them into the tip jar. He flashed a wink at him as he stuck his spoon of pistachio against his tongue. “Always like to tip the pretty ones after a show. See you around, Gilligan.”

Steve was glaring daggers into Billy as he walked out of the store, hoping he could feel it. He was so busy glaring that Robin had to raise her voice so he heard her.

“Earth to Steve, are you done staring at his ass and can clean the counter now?”

Steve’s eyes widened. “I - I was _not_ staring at his ass, Robin! I was - thinking of how I can kill him.”

“While staring at his ass. You both do that, you know.”

“I - HE doesn't, _I_ don't, you’re crazy.”

“I’m not the one who insulted the other guy into a date on Friday.”

Steve started sputtering, telling her that she was wrong, that she was crazy, there was nothing between him and Billy Hargrove but hatred, when he turned around and she was holding the damn whiteboard. So many tallies under **YOU SUCK** , but she was making direct eye contact with him as she dragged the squeaky marker under **YOU RULE.** One single, lone tally in that column.

It suddenly felt like waking up in the back of Billy’s car (fuck) and slamming into a mailbox.

“Holy SHIT.”

“LANGUAGE, young man!” called a disgusted mother who entered the shop with her two children, and Steve went as red as his stupid little tie on the uniform.

Fridays were Steve’s day off. He would have liked to have spent it at his own house, drinking from his parent’s supply, smoking weed, and watching TV in between doing laps. They were gone this weekend, like most weekends. It would have been perfect.

Instead, he was at a loud, crowded public pool watching two kids because he was their ride to and from this place. And Dustin, the shitbird, had just dumped his water bottle all over Steve’s hair.

“Holy shit!” he squealed when the ice-cold water ran down his back, and he sprang out of the chair and shoved Dustin.

_**PFTWEEEEEEET** _

Steve turned around sharply to see Billy fucking Hargrove with the whistle in his mouth, right behind him on his way to the lifeguard chair. Which, of fucking _course,_ was right next to where Dustin had dumped their stuff on a few chairs. _Great._

Billy was holding up two fingers as the whistle fell back against his chest. “No swearing and no horseplay in my pool, Harrington.”

Steve was sputtering because Billy Hargrove enforcing a no swearing rule was absolutely ridiculous, and then maybe he was sputtering at his abs.

What? Wait-

Billy brushed past him, his shoulder bumping against Steve’s own as he walked towards the chair, climbing up the ladder and taking a seat. Steve squinted up at him, hiding his eyes from the sun, “You’re a tyrant with a whistle, Hasselhoff.”

Billy smirked, before turning back to staring at the pool and the people swimming in it. Steve flopped back into his lounge chair, applying more sunscreen to his torso before picking back up his magazine with the Baywatch cast on the cover. He kept looking up from the pages to see if Billy was looking his way. Not because he wanted him to look, but - he was just curious, was all.

But he wasn’t looking his way.

So Steve got up from his lounge chair, stretching out, and walking towards the diving board. He bounced on the soles of his feet as he waited in line, before walking up the ladder. He looked up, and saw Billy watching him. He took a deep breath, and ran across the diving board, jumping high on the end of the board and doing two perfect flips before hitting the water in a dive, with all the grace of years and years being on a swim team.

Billy’s whistle dropped from his lips, falling against his chest again. “Holy shit,” he breathed out, soft enough nobody could hear him.

He watched Steve get out of the pool after splashing around with his weird kid friend, walking back to his spot. Billy got out of the lifeguard chair to go on his break, and he passed Steve, intending to throw an elbow at him. Steve caught his arm, though, and they got stuck in eye contact.

“You need something, pretty boy?” Billy managed to get out in the best snarky voice he could muster up. Steve didn’t move his hand, and for some reason Billy didn’t shove it off.

“Parents are out this weekend,” Steve told him. “Got some green and top shelf whiskey my dad won’t miss. And a quiet pool. If you’re interested.”

Billy stared at him, and this time, Steve could read that weird expression, even through the sunglasses. But it still helped when Billy slid them down his nose to meet his eyes, and he was smiling, not smug, but - _real._

Steve realized that was the look he’d given him in Scoops, at the store Joyce worked, at the gas station.

“Shift’s over at five-thirty,” Billy told him as an answer. Steve nodded, thinking of something to say as Billy started to turn around. His eyes landed on the magazine. “Actually, with the way your flaunt your chest around, you’re more of a Pam Anderson.”

Billy snorted out a loud laugh, one that wasn’t angry or smug, sputtering out a, “holy **SHIT** , Harrington.”

“Language, please!” called a nearby mother, shooting them both a dirty look. Billy flashed a smile and wink at her to get her flustered before turning back to Steve.

He mouthed _language_ at him.

Steve mouthed _motherfucker_ back at him, and Billy shook his head, chuckling as he walked back to the snack bar.

Later that night, through the haze of too much weed and one too many shots of expensive whiskey, Steve’s nose was full of sunscreen and chlorine while Billy’s was full of vanilla and strawberry.

They didn’t realize how close they were until they were breaking apart from a kiss, staring at each other. Then they both burst into laughter, Steve’s arm around Billy’s shoulders as Billy’s hand rested on Steve’s thigh.

_“Holy shit.”_

**Author's Note:**

> First fic for this fandom, it won't be the last.
> 
> Please, please leave all the comments and kudos you like! I love responding to them!
> 
> Come visit me and find ways to send me love and support on [Tumblr](http://somebodyhelpthenotdeadfreds.tumblr.com)!


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